


We were Myths

by BadRomantic



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: But is referred to as Theseus, Cinnamon Roll Newt Scamander, Greek Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Over Protective Theseus Scamander, Parental Theseus/Newt relationship, Roman mythology, Theseus is Ares, add tags as it goes, get ready is all i can tell yall, shy Credence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 22:06:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14942219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadRomantic/pseuds/BadRomantic
Summary: Newt Scamander is far too interested in his and Theseus’s new neighbors. And without Thee’s permission, he can’t really do anything.Or can he?





	We were Myths

Being the only son to a greek god is hard. It’s even worst when the majority of people who had once believed in you deem you unreal and a fond piece of mythical religion. However, Newt’s never been one to grasp as desperately as his father had for that attention. He only found it hard to deal with because of the toll it took on his uncles and aunts, and especially his father, Ares.

Although, his father didn’t go by Ares anymore. He went by Theseus. And when they visited the world beneath, they were the Scamander’s, a name combined from Commander and Scourge (much to Newt’s distain.)

They're infamous amongst England, mostly because they’d visited so much, unlike the other gods at first. Zues was furious with them in the beginning, but he and many others had grown accustomed to living amongst mortals.

What Newt loved most about visiting was the fact that the mortals had such wonderful creatures. He begged countlessly to Thesues to have a mortal cat, or a dog, or even a _lizard_ , but his father remained stern. But that didn’t stop Newt from leaving their benevolent home and arriving to the worldly atmosphere of the humans just to try and see those wonderful creatures.

As Scamander’s, they lived in a modest mansion. It wasn’t large, but it wasn’t small either. Newt used the mansion’s wonderful backyard tree rows to home large bird nest and squirrel feeders. He had about twelve different bowls set out through out the back yard, welcoming any and all animals to approach for free water.

He was lucky enough to convince Theseus to have their mansion closer to wildlife, he supposed. As close as it could be without being a lengthy way from their neighbors, of course.

Their neighbors weren’t very fond of the clan of animals he attracted, though.

The Graves, as they were called, were considerably dim in Newt’s eyes. He thought of them as the rarest types of mortal: the confident and gloomy. He’s seen many confident and happy people, many sad, and more than enough aggressive (Theseus likes those ones the best) but he’s not quiet sure why the Graves family ended up so dismal.

Although, now that Newt looked beyond from refilling the bird homes with straw, he saw a few more lights on at the neighboring mansion than usual. He had been so caught up on his work that he hadn’t _noticed!_  

He squinted his eyes, noticing little details as he focused on.

The yard was trimmed neatly (which Newt had never seen before, as there was always a sharp line of dying grass against their own lawn that was a few inches taller), there were toys laid about— in a way that Newt suspected was too neat to be any child, and there was a new shiny car in the front.

His curiosity blossomed. What happened to the Graves family, and who moved in their place? He wouldn’t be surprised to hear that they passed, because he recalled them being considerably old.

Their forever-scowling faces were wedged in his memories, sitting among the times he’s caught them throwing away the sweets and gifts Theseus and he made for them.

Not that he minded, because Theseus was the god of War and not the god of baking, and Newt was far from any prodigy. Although, he had yet to be introduced to the god of baked goods, so perhaps he _could_ become the first.

_No,_ Newt thought as he scrunched up his nose, _I don’t think I want to be the first._

* * *

 

 

Newt told Theseus about this new discovery, because he always told his father everything. It was simpler that way and he had no use for lying.

“They had lights and their yard was fresh!” Newt said excitedly, enjoying the feel of Theseus’s hand in his own as they sat. He was fond of touching, fond of the warmth shared between two people. He loved his father dearly as well, so the contact was a way of anchoring himself.

“Perhaps the Graves sold.” Theseus said, not at all dismissive but also not interested, “I hope whoever moved in is nicer than them.”

“There were toys in the yard.” Newt pointed out, straightening his back as he brushed a thumb across Theseus’s battle-scarred knuckles, “Anybody with children’s toys in the yard is nice.”

“You’re beautifully and blissfully unaware.” Was all Theseus said, pressing a kiss onto Newt’s forehead and returning the affectionate gesture of rubbing a thumb across his own knuckles, which were covered in thinner, neat lines of scars.

Newt always figured that because he was created from a strand of Theseus’s hair and an unnamed god’s blood, he inherited a few of his scars. It made him feel even more comfortable around his father, being so close to him in appearance. He brought Theseus’s hand up to study his scars.  
“You always say that. Can we visit them, Thee? I want to meet them.”

Theseus peered at him, a nervousness glinting in his eyes.

Newt smiled at him fondly, whispering in the quietest voice he could muster; “Please? With some Pinkberry on top?”

“Oh,” Theseus groaned loudly, bringing his hand away from Newt’s hold and throwing it around his shoulders roughly, “you know I’m weak for Pinkberry.”

“Even the god of War has his moments.” Newt said proudly, already planning what he could bring to welcome the new family in. He hopes he can create something nice enough for the child that’s at the house.

* * *

 

Luckily, Newt works fast. He made an assortment of flowers that strung and twisted into the greek symbol of the sun, and he rehearsed his tiny speech to go along with it to Theseus enough to know exactly how the evening would go.

He truly liked giving gifts. He especially liked it when his gifts had a special meaning behind them, as the symbol did. He chose it specifically as a blessing, something to promise everlasting shine on their future.

He kept his promises keenly, so that blessing would be his hobby until the inevitable death of the family.

“Knock _twice,”_ Theseus reminded, looking uncomfortable with himself as usual. Appearing before mortals was always a hassle for his father, especially when they built such a name for themselves. 

Or maybe it was because Theseus was simply not used to offering polite friendliness to anybody but Newt.

Newt knocked in a rapid successions, only stopping when Theseus grabbed his wrist and yanked it away from the door. He glared sharply at Newt, but before he could scold him for not listening, the door creaked. It remained partially open for a small second before fully pulling back.

Newt’s breath was stolen. 

The man that opened the door was clearly well put. His hair was as dark as the night, face stern but not unfriendly, and he had the build of a warrior. Newt’s only been alive for less than a hundred decades, but he’s sure that this man was the spitting image of an early Greek soldier. Strong, wide shouldered, powerful. He found himself awkwardly gawking when the man lifted a brow and cleared his throat expectantly.

Newt is now thoroughly embarrassed.

He shoved the flowers forward, tipping his head down to hide behind his hair’s fringe, “I- These are- plants.”

“Oh?” The man’s voice was much more pleasant than what his tough built offered.

“What my dearest brother is trying to say,” Theseus gave him a side-glance, “is welcome to the neighborhood. You’re new.”

Newt sneaked a glance up, fighting off the urge to slouch even more in disappointment when the man picked up the plant and didn’t spare it a look.

“Yes, we are. I’m Percival Graves, I moved in here after my parents retired. They’re living in Sam’s Home.”

_Percival._ Newt hurried to search in his mind, wanting to understand what the name could possibly mean. All that he could come up with was respect. Percival must be a well-respected name.

“Sam’s Home has good reviews. Congratulations.” Theseus said, and Newt knew by the way Percival lifted a brow that he could sense Theseus’s impartialness to the conversation.

“Th-The plant, um, the flowers, I mean,” Newt said, struggling to control his tongue, especially when those magnificent dark eyes locked on his own, “the… they’re in the shape of the Greek symbol of the sun. It- It signifies a lot, like- um, see those spikes? They represent the twelve gods of Olympus.” Newt felt his confidence steadily grow. He took a deep breath, rejoicing when Percival finally looked at his house-warming gift.

He did good.

“It’s a lovely assortment.” Percival said, “My son has always been interested in mythology- although, he prefers Roman over Greek.”

Newt could feel Theseus’s nose crinkle at the knowledge.

“Scholars do tend to favour those ones.” Newt said instead of letting Theseus answer first, wishing to offer a calm in his father’s steadily growing tension, “I bet you’re son is very smart.”

Percival brightened up considerably, a smile gracing Newt as he spoke, “Yes, my son is. He’s my pride. Would you care to meet him?”

“We’d be delighted- if he’d have us,” Newt said, glancing to Theseus excitedly. He did not appear as enthusiastic to meet Percival’s son as Newt was. Which was fine, because Theseus didn’t really like anybody but him. He considered it his father’s weakest point.

Percival tipped his head towards Newt for a small moment before turning away and calling in the direction beyond the door, “Credence? Can you please come over here?”

Theseus’s breath was suddenly hot in his ear, “Please? I would have had your head if you made me say please.”

“You’re such a snob,” Newt whispered back, quickly offering a grin to Percival when he peeked back at them with an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry, he’s rather shy. Perhaps another time?”

“Another time would do well,” Newt said, secretly holding it to his heart. That was permission to visit again, and Newt wanted so desperately to visit. He wanted to learn about Percival, to meet his son, and to explore more of those dark eyes. He wondered what made this man so captivating.   
Percival studied for a moment before his wonderful smile was back, “Wonderful. How about tomorrow afternoon? One? We’ll have lunch.”

“Yes, thank you,” Newt said the same time Theseus tried to deny the offer, “we will see you then, Mister Percival.”

“I never caught your name…?” Percival seemed more amused than awkward with the statement. Newt hurried to duck his head in embarrassment, face heating up considerably. He should have introduced himself and Thee!

“Theseus Scamander,” His father spoke briskly, clearly set off about _something_ with the conversation, “he’s my brother Newton. You can call him Newt, everybody does. Goodbye now.”

Newt barely had enough time to register that he was being jerked away from Percival’s home before Theseus was once again whispering into his ear, “He’s suspicious! We will not visit him tomorrow.”

Newt squirmed, wrinkling his nose in dislike when his father’s grip on his arm tightened, “He was very nice.”

“Thorns on a rose.”

“You’re not suppose to speak in riddles anymore, you know I don’t understand you.”

Theseus’s eyes lit up, “So _blissfully_ stupid,” he kissed Newt’s head again, the fire in his voice unable to be found in the affectionate gesture. Newt sighed tightly, furrowing his eyebrows and tried to understand Thee’s protectiveness. Percival was just a mortal, he could do nothing to them. They were gods, it’s impossible to kill a god. Uncle Zues has proved it multiple times.

So... Newt figured that visiting Percival secretly would fit his schedule just fine.


End file.
